


Where is Emma?

by Enky



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alive Daniel (Detroit: Become Human), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Android Gavin Reed, Gen, human daniel, unrealized deviance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enky/pseuds/Enky
Summary: The orphan Daniel Reed has devoted his life to his employer and family, the Phillips. But when John buys an android, the scorned secretary snaps, leading to the machine going deviant. Now Daniel needs to track it down and rescue little Emma, preferably without getting on the police's notice for being the actual cause of the kidnapping.Meanwhile the old patrol android Gavin PC200 has emulated Lt. Anderson for years, even after the man changed and started pushing Gavin away. But now the DPD has a shiny new detective android that threatens Gavin's place at Hank's side as well as Hank's job security.At first glance the posh secretary and the streetsmart android do not seem to have much in common, but as they stumble through Detroit on their quest for Emma, they realize that they are each other's mirror.
Relationships: (or maybe only friends), Daniel & Gavin Reed
Kudos: 3





	1. The interrogation

Detroit, November 2038.

For several weeks now the city has seen a rise in android crime. Not crimes against androids, as that would be cause for calling your insurance company to replace the machine, but android-on-human violence, what is cause for worry.  
Last night police lieutenant Hank Anderson managed to apprehend one of those “deviants”, a household android that has killed its owner. Hank’s team proceeded to interrogating the deviant device, but so far they have failed to make any progress.

So far, so canon...

Hank rejoined the others. Tired from far heavier burdens than a night spent investigating, he slumped down on a chair.

“We’re wasting our time interrogating a machine. We’re getting nothing out of it...”

When there wasn’t a replay from Chris Miller nor Connor, the third person in the room shifted his weight a little. He was leaning against the wall trying his best to give an impression of bored casualness.  
On first glance this third person was a human male in his thirties, unkempt and with a stubble. A prominent scar ran across his nose, distracting from many smaller ones the man had sustained during many years of service. He wore a patrol officer’s uniform, although something was off about that. The outfit bulged in places it shouldn’t, suggesting some sort of protective plating worn underneath.

“Could always try roughing it up a little”, the man spoke up. “After all - it’s not a human!”

“Android do not feel pain”, Connor dismissed the suggestion. “The lieutenant would only damage it, not make it talk.” 

There was nothing casual or bored about the other one anymore, when he flared up at these words:  
“Don’t tell me what androids do and don’t, smartass! I AM one!”

“Exactly!” Connor agreed. “A stable PC200 patrol android like you would require a simple command - talk - to answer our questions. I was sent here by CyberLife to deal specifically with the deviant cases.”

The PC200, it went by the name of “Gavin”, shuffled its weight a bit more, but not because it would have needed that to steady itself, but because it was trying to parse the sentence. There was no direct interface between the two androids. Both were logged into the DPD’s network, but with different security privileges and access to different nodes. Therefore it wasn’t just more comfortable for their human co-workers, but also easier for the androids themselves to just talk to each other. Except of course when Connor was spouting nonsense – what it seemed to do on a regular basis from what Gavin had heard from it so far – or when it was talking like a prick.

Eventually Gavin thought to have gotten the other’s android intent:  
“So YOU want to rough it up in Hank’s place? Big deal, just one of you do it before young Chris here is due filing for his pension!”

“And I just told you that nobody’s going to beat up the suspect! Deviants have a tendency to self-destruct when they’re in a stressful situation...”

At this point of the conversation Hank pointed at Gavin:  
“Wait a mom’, Connor - you want to tell me that our plastic cop thingie here might go boom in our faces any moment? No one told me they could do that!”

“That’s fucking nonsense, lieutenant!” Gavin protested. “Androids do not come with self-destruction measures installed.”

Connor, however, remained firm: “It’s not nonsense. Rising stress levels can lead to a deviant attempting to destroy itself. By any means available to it.”

“But that’s not self-destruction, that’s suicide”, Gavin wanted to disagree. In its almost ten years of existence the patrol android had seen its share of that, both attempted and successful. Self-destruction to the contrary was a concept the android was familiar with only from the shows running on the cafeteria TV that it happened to partially take in now and then. Self-destruction was loud, messy and full of sfx, something out of a sci-fi flick, not the real world.  
But this deviant hunter had different definitions loaded. A machine could only destroy itself, therefore any attempt of an android to take its own artificial life was “self destruction” to Connor.  
For some reason this realization frightened the old PC200, even though no direct threat had gotten issued its way. It stood, stared and kept its mouth shut, the latter being a first since Chris Miller had known Gavin. Hank, too, had only a dim recollection of this particular PC200 unit standing so neat and obedient. Gavin was ancient, one of the first of its series, and glitched as fuck. But it was still in working condition and so, thanks to municipal funding habits, got kept around for office assistance and janitorial work, although it was no longer trusted on the beat. 

Eventually Gavin snapped out of its shock and returned to what passed as its “Self” for something that wasn’t supposed to have one. It yelled at Connor:  
“Okay, smartass! YOU try questioning it!”

“That is actually a reasonable suggestion. May I, lieutenant?”

…

Ten minutes and one confession later the two androids retreated to the cafeteria.  
Here Gavin immediately started to make coffee for the human officers, while the newcomer stood idly. It really was an idle pose, Gavin realized. Although it could not listen in, the PC200 would have been able to pick up the fact that data was traveling back and forth if Connor were communicating.  
Just standing around as if in standby, while not actually being in standby mode... the very idea made the old PC200 itch. It focused on its task, one it loved, and that never failed to calm it.

When it was finished, the PC200 put an empty coffee pot on the table, but didn’t fill it yet. It removed a selection of donuts from their paper wrappings and heaped them on a platter. Finally Gavin took Officer Chen’s favorite brand of orange juice out of the fridge, allowing it to warm up to just the right temperature when Chen and Lewis would return from their patrol.

Only after these preparations were finished did the device turn to Connor to satisfy a need of its own: curiosity.

“I’ve never seen an android like you before. What model are you?”

Slowly and pronounced, as if speaking to someone slow on the uptake, the other android replied: “RK800.”

“I knew that! I can fucking read!” Gavin snapped back.

“Ah, but you asked, so I had to assume your sensoric or processing capabilities were impaired.”

For a moment Gavin wondered whether its artificial breathing routine allowed for a sigh, but then it just shook its head.

“Try googling casual talk, dipshit! Like, “Are you getting off here?” is actually short for “Move aside lest you want my elbow in your side, I need to get off at this station.” I wanted to know... the things you do. What you’re good for.”

“I’m an android detective prototype...”

“Aaaaandroid detective...”, Gavin replied with what would have passed for a sneer, had it been human. But as things were, it only managed to sound as if it had gotten dust into its speakers. Angrily Gavin squinted its eyes and again snapped at the RK800: “So you’re gonna replace me? Is that it?”

“Of course not!” Connor chirped in its upbeat voice that sounded as if it shit rainbows and had to distribute cotton candy to everyone. “I’m going to replace Lieutenant Anderson. You will get replaced by an eventual PC300 series.” The RK800 considered briefly, then felt obligated to add: “Or by a non-glitched PC200.”

The effect this clarification had on Gavin PC200 was… not the expected.

And this was how Hank found his androids later: Gavin was kicking and pushing Connor, trying to ram it against one of the columns that marked the cafeteria’s entrance. The RK800 in turn seemed to run a special countdown during which it tried talking sense into the older device. When the countdown reached zero, all bets would be off.

“Violent behavior, Gavin? Oh, finally! Tell me you just turned deviant and we can scrap you!”

“Androids cannot employ violence against humans”, Gavin reminded its handler. “But I’m perfectly able to take the trash out! In fact, I’d do humanity a service, if I disposed of this...”

Hank cut the PC200 short: “I don’t want to hear it!”

Likewise Connors accusing “It started!” into Gavin’s direction could just as well have went into the void.

“I said I’m not interested in hearing about your robo-war!” Hank barked. “And I need a drink.”

Gavin had already started pouring coffee the moment it had disengaged Connor. Now it nudged the lieutenant into the table’s direction.

“Yes, of course, lieutenant. Coffee’s ready on the table.”

Hank snorted. “I said “drink”, tin can.”

But even so, the man shambled towards the table, where he assessed the donuts, picked a toxic-looking one with a bright green coating crossed by black stripes, and bit off a good chunk.  
Gavin took a mental note about this particular pastry getting well received and then something very human occurred in its computer brain: Despite full well realizing that Hank had the chosen the donut because it looked as inedible as poison, and that this was just another form of the man’s self harm tendencies expressing themselves, Gavin saved the scene as Hank having chosen the brightest color, reasoning that it radiated the most happiness. In other words: the machine was lying to itself.

At the table Hank had taken to mutter to no one in particular:  
“Jeff thinks himself so smart, putting that Gavin to every task that needs doing, but assisting in the interrogation obviously has overloaded what little passes for its brain. It’s going back to reception desk duty today!”

“What?!” Gavin thought, all the while serving other officers as they arrived. “But sending in the RK-prototype was MY suggestion! You’d never thought of that, stupid old fart! But I cannot call you out on that, not in line of sight of a patented deviant hunter. That half-finished Early Access unit might take me for a deviant, too, I wouldn’t put that past it.  
It hurts so much... why do I hurt when I wasn’t damaged? We do not feel pain!”

In Gavin PC200′s limited experience a “deviant” was an android that went haywire and attacked people. Gavin had never done that. Considered, sure, but never went through with it. And the occasional shove here, and a kick there, all of that had gone under the radar both of the cops’ and Gavin’s own idea of “violence”.  
So Gavin was still stable, that much stood to reason.  
But something was sure different about itself, was setting it apart from other units of the same series, that much the android understood. Only if it wasn’t deviance, then what?

“I want to be someone”, Gavin mused, while reveling in self-pity that also didn’t register as deviant behavior to its self-diagnosis, because there was no violence involved. “I want you to see me for what I am!”

And for an android what one WAS always boiled down to what one was DOING.  
There had been a time, before the accident, when Gavin had learned all it could about detective work from Lieutenant Anderson. Hank had found that funny, in the same fashion he’d been entertained by his dog’s tricks and touched by Sumo’s affection.  
Then, three years ago, the lieutenant had changed... not for the better, but Gavin had still tried to emulate his idol, no matter what. That’s why all the cussing, the casual insults and last not least the stubble. In the end all the effort had been for nothing. Hank Anderson, never a fan of technology, now hated androids and most of all he hated Gavin PC200.

Or maybe Hank hated Gavin only? He was certainly chummy with Connor, the PC200 thought. In its fit of jealousy it interpreted every instance of Hank not outright beating up the prototype as “liking” Connor, when in truth the man barely tolerated the newcomer.  
Gavin had thought to belong, to be part of the team. But here the android was, relegated to “Hello, my name is Gavin, how can I help you” duty, while the shiny new toy that was Connor was trailing after Hank as if it belonged there.

“I cannot even blame you for having taken my spot in Hank’s heart”, Gavin whispered to itself while walking down the floor. “I never really was in there...”

The bullpen right next to it was bristling with activity, but the PC200 felt utterly alone...


	2. The hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin PC200 is still writing off all his old and new emotions as merely something CyberLife programmed him to display.   
> When the Phillips family comes to the DPD with conflicting stories about their android's deviance, this is Gavin's chance to prove that he is at least as good as Connor. But what eventually allows the PC200 to find the truth is not state of the art detective programming, but a very human notion: Empathy.

Before leaving the authorized personnel only - tract Gavin straightened its uniform. At times the outfit seemed to be the only real thing about itself. Everything else the PC200 presented to the outside world was fake. The skin suggesting a little mediterranean or hispanic ancestry, the grey eyes with just a tint of green, the always ruffled hair, the three-day-stubble and the various emotions Gavin was able to simulate, all of those were just aspects of the wide range of customization options the first batch of PC200s had come with.  
And the only thing that was real about the android? That damn scar on its nose! How typical. What set Gavin apart from the few remaining units of his batch was an imperfection, an unrepairable dent in the chassis.  
Before the arrival of that goddamn walking Beta test by name of Connor its scar hadn’t bothered Gavin. It did so now, and as it was crossing over from the station’s interior into the reception hall, Gavin wiped its fingers across its nose as if that could make the tiny scratch vanish.

“Use a kerchief, you pig!” Officer Deckart, whom the android was passing by, sputtered.

“Blow it out your ass!” the PC200 replied, not the wisest thing to do. 

There’d be repercussions later. There always were. A good chunk of Hank Anderson’s sizeable disciplinary folder contained files pertaining to the Lieutenant’s android’s misbehaviors.   
That was CyberLife for you, Gavin thought, programming a perfectly serviceable patrol android in a way that made it “lifelike” and “endearing” to the point of inhabiting its functions as well as acceptance by the human co-workers. The PC200 would never understand its makers!  
“I’m not made to”, Gavin told itself. What it was made for was to was ease the work of Detroit’s law enforcement forces and that task the machine now applied itself to, as well as it was still able to at almost ten years of age. 

There always was something to see to in the reception hall and sure enough today there was a couple arguing with a young man that had arrived in their company.

“Hello, my name is Gavin”, the PC200 android rattled down. “How may I help you?”

“This bastard here shot my brand new android!” the male half of the couple exclaimed, pointing a finger at the younger man. 

“No, I didn’t! It ran away - as every sensible creature would, were it in your employ!”

“What?! After years of feeding your useless mouth I get insults out of it?!”

Gavin looked from one human to the other, appearing to casually casting a glance, while in truth scanning the trio. There wasn’t much to go by here for a patrol android without access to the DPD’s complete database. The couple was well-dressed, each item of clothing from a currently in-fashion brand, and spruced up with the usual makeup and personal effects. They were keeping themselves in the way of people who were used to getting their way by carefully navigating a web of connections, knowing exactly whom to kick and at whom to bow, but probably not possessing many actual skills.  
The younger man wore a simple business casual shirt and tie under a comfortable looking sleeveless black sweater. He had the look of one who deemed himself far above the rabble, because he was serving the bigshots – as well as a lot of pent up anger, as Gavin realized on second glance.

“‘kay”, the android spoke up, “let me see if I got this right, Mister...”

“Phillips. John Phillips. And this is - or was - my secretary, Daniel Reed.”

At this point the female half of the couple chimed in: “Should we really tell all of this to this machine? We should demand to speak to a real person! Emma’s life might depend on it!” 

“Emma’s...?” 

The question prompted a gush of angry words from Daniel, each syllable dripping with acid:  
“Their little daughter. The oaf’s android ran away, but not before grabbing our kid as hostage. I TOLD them not to buy one, but would they listen to me? Nah. Secretary, pff. I bet they see me as their slave, to be ordered around...”

At this point the human had to catch his breath, so Gavin quickly claimed the initiative:  
“How about you follow me and tell me all about it, Mister Reed? Mister and Mrs. Phillips - I’ll be back with a “real person” for you to yell at in a jiffy.”

When no one objected, the android nodded towards Daniel.  
“After me, please, Mr. Reed!”

“Yes, get a move on, traitor!” John shouted. “And you, tin can, you tell your superiors to keep him in a cell until he rots! If I never get to see his stupid face again, this will be too soon!”

Daniel rose from the bench. “Gosh, I can’t take this nonsense anymore!” he moaned. “Okay, I’ll follow...”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“...but this better not be an interrogation!”

“That’s a strange way to pronounce “Thank you for separating me from my nutcase employers, Officer.”.”

“What would YOU know about nutcase employers...”

Gavin couldn’t help but chuckle at that. The android quickly filled Officer Deckart in about the situation, then led the suspect into the conference room.

“I said this better not be an interrogation! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

Drawing back a chair for itself and another one for the totally-not-a-suspect, Gavin chatted away: “No interrogation, Sir. See? No deviously bright tablelamp, no one-way-blinded window, no pesky RK800 android detective present. But I made coffee earlier. You’ll need a pot, because from what I’ve seen so far, the Phillips will draw this out for hours before we’re rid of them.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point there”, Daniel sighed.

No pesky RK800 present indeed, but even so Gavin found itself taking a page or two from the android detective’s book now. Make the suspect feel comfortable and understood to make them more inclined to open up...

The android picked a PDA up from the table, only causing the suspect to feel anything BUT “comfortable and understood”:

“What’s with the tablet, “officer”? You aren’t recording this conversation? Or are you looking me up in your database like a common criminal?!”

“No, I only...”

“Put it away! At once! You’re a machine and have to do what we tell you and I didn’t tell you to spy on me!”

“Geeze lousy, dude, you do not need coffee, but valerian tea!”

Internally Gavin rejoiced. This Mister Reed definitely was hiding something. Maybe he had really shot the Phillips’ android, but even if he hadn’t, he sure had contributed to the crisis in some way.

Meanwhile Daniel had taken a first, tentative gulp from the pot. It immediately raised the man’s spirits: “Say, this is a good brew! A cheap brand, but masterfully made. As good as mine, actually.”

“A human making coffee? Do I have to fear you putting me out of work, because your next job will be PL600 household android?”

Playful banter, they both laughed and the initial tension was broken. Wonderful stuff, coffee...

“But for real”, Daniel said, with a wistful smile, and a hitherto unwitnessed softness in his voice. “Sometimes I’d stay late at the Phillips’ place or just drop by for no other reason than to have a chat. Then I’d make coffee, help with Emma’s homework and on occasion I’ve cooked full meals for all of us. It was more cost efficient and certainly nicer than eating alone in my flat.”

“If you’re such a two-legged capybara, then I bet your parents would appreciate your presence even more than your fucking employers. Or is that a big taboo for humans your age?”  
Daniel laughed. “If I had parents, they’d have to SUE me out of their home. But, no, I’m an orphan. The Phillips aren’t old enough to register as surrogate parents, but even so I sure felt like a part of their family.” 

Suddenly the human tensed up. Sitting straight on his chair he stared accusingly at the android cop. “Wait - are you recording any of this?”

“No, I’m not. See? Tablet’s off.”

“You are an android, your brain is literally a laptop! Of course you are recording, silly me. - Why the pretense with the tablet in the first place?”

“Oh, that’s a CyberLife android thing. I’m endearing and lifelike and you want to welcome me in your home.”

“Dream on!”

“I mean on principle. If we act less like the computers we are, then humans do not fear us.”

“I do not fear no fucking toaster!”

“Yeah, so I was told. You shot it...”

From Daniel there was no reaction.

“Look, Mr. Reed, if you really shot that android, the truth will come to light eventually. But I feel there’s more to it, namely the reason why you did it. And you’re better off telling us your version of the story than glaring angrily at Mr. Phillips while he does all the talking.”

Still no reaction from the human, but at least he hadn’t spaced out and put Gavin on the meat-equivalent of an Ignore list. Mister Reed was still listening, so the android spoke on:

“You think I do not know how this works? Then take a closer look at me! I’m fucking old and today they’ve shown me my replacement. That’s what you get for ten years of service - the recycling yard. And don’t for a moment assume that they’d miss me! The new one’s already glued to Hank’s coattail as if he’d always been there. I bet Hank doesn’t even realize it’s a different android!” 

Had there been only silence from Daniel so far, now the man’s lips twitched treacherously. Gavin knew it was almost there, so it pressed on:

“That’s what happened to you, right? The Phillips betrayed you...”

“Fuck yes, they did!” Daniel cried. “I always was there for John and Caroline... working overtime and helping with their private problems, putting my own secondary. I thought I mattered to them, but then they went and purchased that stupid machine.”

Daniel broke into sobs. Her didn’t bother – or was lacking the strength? – to wipe the tears away. As the man sat there, still upright as not even the android Connor had interrogated earlier today had, he let them flow while recounting what had happened between him and the Phillips’ AP700:

“You should have heard them brag about it! An AP700! Soon the thing had replaced me not only when it came to helping them, but also in their hearts.   
I was so angry! And... and I knew where John kept his gun, so one day I took it and shot at the damn thing. Once... twice... then it had my movements figured out and dodged all further shots. And that’s scary, because I’m a crack shot! The moment I realized what I was squaring off against, that superhuman monster grabbed Emma and made its escape... It’s my fault she’s in danger now... my fault...”

They were perfect mirrors of each other, the old police android and the scorned secretary. Gavin didn’t even have to use mind-tricks, it just had to speak out loud what it found within itself. By right it should suffer with Reed now, share the burden, but, holy fuck, did this moment feel good!

“I did it, I did it!” the PC200 exclaimed over and over. 

“Argh, too loud! I can’t stand it anymore!” Daniel hissed while rubbing his head, to make the beginning headache go away. It didn’t help and neither did it stop the PC200′s “I did it, I did it!” that was now getting played on repeat.

“I did it, Hank! I got a confession!”

And then, miraculously, the lieutenant appeared in the doorway, as if he’d heed the summons of an android. Alas, it turned out Hank didn’t share Gavin’s excitement. To the contrary...

“What the hell, Gavin! The manual says PC200s run with minimum noise, so will you fucking keep it down!” 

“But I just got a confession out of Mr. Reed here! Just like Connor! See? I can do this! I’m android detective material, too!"

His face still stained with tears, Daniel Reed leaned across the table. All the hatred that he had amassed for his employer and the AP700 the human now directed at this other, government-approved, machine.

Daniel didn’t shout or even hiss. He simply stated matter-of-factly: “You’re dead.”

Gavin grinned. “Sorry, sucker, not alive in the first place.”

But even as it made that claim, the android knew it to be a lie. For there were rare occasions when it felt very much alive and right now was just such a moment.


End file.
